


The Birthday Boy

by MGreenwood (Majestrix)



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Jordan Is A Good Bro, Mel is hangry, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/pseuds/MGreenwood
Summary: It's supposed to behisday, but Harry's emotional trauma didn't get the memo.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn, Jordan Chase & Maggie Vera
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	The Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for [Fibi94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fibi94/pseuds/Fibi94%22) and coincidentally ended up being a fitting entry for Hacy Week 2020 - Day 1: A million ways to say "I love you". Pheobe, I hope you like it!

“Harry?”

Harry freezes. “Maggie.” It comes out muffled, probably due to the sheer amount of food he’s managed to stuff into his mouth. He tries chewing as quickly as he can as she comes closer, her elbow jabbing him in the side as she shoves at him.

She sees what remains of the cassoulet and her eyes widen. “Macy’s going to _kill_ you. That’s for your _birthday dinner_ ,” Maggie hisses.

“ _I know_ ,” Harry hisses back. “It just smelled so good and I didn’t have breakfast and accidentally skipped lunch and…” He realizes he isn’t getting anywhere with the sympathy play. “Surely we can keep this between the two of us.”

Maggie opens her mouth then closes it, looking at him with utter incredulity. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to notice half the casserole is gone,” she says dryly.

“Let’s not exaggerate, it’s not half,” he says.

She peers down at the dish and snorts. “Looks like it to me.”

“Be that as it may, perhaps it would be prudent to secure some assistance with my situation,” Harry says. 

Maggie takes a deep breath and grins. “You want me to lie for you,” she says.

“No, of course not! Though, as a gesture of love and support you… _could_ say you did it and call it my birthday present?” Harry asks hopefully. 

“I’m gonna tell. I’m _gonna tell_!” Maggie turns to bolt but Harry grabs her elbow and orbs them to the solarium. Her eyes widen as she realizes they’ve relocated and yanks her arm out of his grasp. “Now I’m _really_ going to tell,” she warns him, barely able to contain her giggles. “You are in _so_ much trouble, and on your birthday!” Maggie doubles over laughing at Harry’s vaguely sour expression. 

“Maggie, will you help or are you going to rat me out to your sister?” he half asks, half pleads.

“I’m leaning toward the latter, if I’m going to be honest,” Maggie murmurs. “Macy really went all out making that concoction, whatever you want to call it.”

“ _Cassoulet_ ,” Harry corrects.

Maggie’s eyes narrow. “You’re not helping your case, Har.”

“Right. Apologies.” Harry wracks his brain for something to offer that would actually appeal to the youngest Vera. “Fine, how about I take your dish duty for a week?”

Maggie doesn’t look impressed. 

“Okay,” Harry mutters. “I will make you a scrambled tofu bowl for the next two weeks.”

“You already do,” she says.

“…True.” Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “A week of your shifts at the witchboard?”

Maggie beams. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about,” she crows happily. 

Harry’s shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “A week of covering your witchboard duties is more than worth disappointing your sister.”

Maggie’s smile turns sly. “Oh no, not _just_ the witchboard shifts. I want the dish duty _too_.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. “I’m being extorted on my birthday?” he asks incredulously. 

Maggie just looks at him, unimpressed. “No one told you to break into your birthday dinner’s main course,” she says reasonably. “That’s my offer, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” Harry says hastily. 

“Good. Now you’re supposed to be getting ready.” Maggie makes shooing motions toward him.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asks.

“That’s my business. Go,” she says, and in a flash of irritation, he orbs upstairs to his and Macy’s bedroom. 

His _and_ Macy’s bedroom. Truth be told Harry’s heart still skips a beat when he thinks about it. Upon landing, he’s just in time to catch Macy emerging from the ensuite bathroom, clad in a pleasantly short, silky robe and her hair gathered at the top of her head in a bun. 

“Hey, baby,” she says warmly, coming to kiss Harry happily. “Enjoying your birthday so far?” Macy laughs when he rumbles low in his throat and pulls her closer, against him as he gives her a longer, deeper kiss.

The kiss is lush; Harry’s hands drop to the tie at Macy’s waist and with deft fingers loosens it so he can run his fingertips against the soft skin of her abdomen. Delightedly, he finds she wears nothing beneath the robe, and his ardor ratchets up a notch when he palms her breasts, swiping his thumbs across her nipples. Harry’s mouth waters at the thought of the taste of them, and he bends to lave his tongue, feather-light, against a tightened bud before pulling it into his mouth with a decadent groan. 

Macy squeezes her eyes shut and bites down on her lip as she tries to suppress her body’s reaction to his ministrations, but she can’t quell the almost violent shudder that goes through her body at the barest touch of his tongue and cries out at the sensation buzzing through her body and pooling in her groin. “Harry…” she moans, letting him move them until her knees hit the edge of the bed. 

He releases her nipple with a wet sound that goes straight to her clit. “You've been on my mind all day,” he says before he rubs his face against her lovely bosom. Harry lifts her easily and with a yelp, Macy finds herself on her back, robe open, and limbs akimbo as the whitelighter kneels between her legs. 

“Harry…” she pleads, helpless to do anything but watch as he mouths down her body with a trail of wet kisses. Harry buries his face in the dark curls between her thighs and inhales deeply. “Oh my god,” she mutters as her whole body seems to tighten. “Harry, we have to get ready for your birthday dinner,” Macy whines.

“But I’m _starving_ , love,” he rumbles, rubbing his thumb up and down her labia and glancing off her clit, ever so gently rubbing in a circle. When he lifts his hand, the digit glistens in the light. “You’re so wet for me.” Harry’s voice drops low before he sucks her essence from the pad of his finger. Macy’s core clenches around nothing when his eyes flutter shut as he groans indulgently. 

“Harry,” she pleads, what she wants at odds with how her traitorous legs spread wider. 

_Knock, knock_

“Hey, Mace; got a moment?” 

Heart thundering in her throat, Macy wrestles control of herself as she both thankful for and curses Mel’s timing. “Yeah, one second.” She pushes Harry away and off the bed, swatting his hands away knowingly when he reaches for her.

“I just wanted to assist you to your feet,” he says, his mild tone wildly incongruous with the sheer heat of his gaze, the weight of it landing on Macy’s body. 

She ties her robe quickly and walks around Harry outside of his reach. “Go,” she snaps with no real heat, pointing to the shower before she opens the door. “Hey, Mel, what’s up?”

Mel looks her older sister up and down with a frown. “We’re still eating at seven-thirty, right? Because I skipped lunch for this.”

“As far as I know we’re on schedule,” Macy says, and Mel narrows her eyes at the overly chipper tone. 

Macy is beginning to lose patience. “Was that your question, Mel?” she prompts.

“You know how you and Harry get when you’re left unsupervised.” Mel’s smile widens as her sister’s expression flattens.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she deadpans.

“Wait,” Mel laughs when the door begins to close. “Ruby wants to know if it’s okay that she brings almond pear baklava instead of apple cardamom. I told her it wouldn’t be a big deal, but she wants to check first,” she says, her affection obvious despite the roll of her eyes. 

“That’s fine,” Macy says and blinks when Mel just continues to look at her expectantly. 

“Just for the sake of clarity, you’re telling me I don’t need to grab a piece of fruit or something because dinner is going to be delayed due to _you_ grabbing a… banana?”

Macy firmly closes the door in her sister’s face, her irritation fading as Mel’s laughter does, but she feels a twinge of embarrassment because, as mortifying as it is to admit, she concedes Mel might’ve had a point. There may have been a few times plans and meals were delayed due to… _various circumstances_. Be that as it may if she doesn’t get a move on, they’ll be late again, and Macy doesn’t know if she has the energy to deal with a hangry Mel. She rouses herself from her thoughts and pauses. She can hear the shower going – which, duh; she asked Harry to get a move on, himself.

_Oh shit_.

~*~

Harry doesn’t tarry in the shower and keeps his hands busy, pointedly ignoring the hard column of flesh between his legs. All he can think is if he hadn’t been downstairs stealing into his birthday dinner, he could have convinced Macy that showering together would be in their best interest – saving time _and_ water. 

He steps out of the shower and dries off quickly; perhaps if he’s extra persuasive, Macy will take pity on him and help him calm down a bit before they’re due to appear. Even now, two years into their relationship, Harry can’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s allowed to love and _be loved_ by a woman as objectively amazing as one Doctor Macy Vaughn. 

Harry immediately feels his mood lighten and he can’t help but marvel that the love of his life is able to do so much for him with merely a thought. He uses the driest corner of his towel to rub through his hair as he exits the heavily steamed ensuite, and Harry’s mind blanks at the sight that greets him in their bedroom. 

Macy has one hand on her vanity for balance as she leans down to fasten the delicate clasp of her shoe against her ankle bone. Harry forgets he’s supposed to be drying his hair as he appreciates the blood red of her dress where it lays taut against her glorious backside. She straightens and turns, the crimson stilettos on her feet giving her a couple of inches of an advantage over him.

He shivers and is helpless at the deep pang of lust thrumming through his body. The length of the crimson dress is practically demure, the skirt falling past her knees in a pencil silhouette that cradles Macy’s magnificent hips, legs, and ass in a manner that both shields everything but to Harry, who knows her every curve, reveals all. 

The whole garment is ruched, providing the illusion of being painted on her delectable frame. Fabric loops low on her arms, just above her elbows, and drapes across the bodice, artfully framing where Macy swells generously over the top, leaving Harry feeling a little lightheaded. He blinks, and Harry realizes Macy’s mouth is moving and that means she’s probably talking to him. “I’m sorry,” he tries. “What?”

“You’re dripping on the floor,” she says, struggling to suppress her smile. 

He immediately glances at the floor between her legs before his brain catches up with him. “Right,” Harry mutters as his face colors in mortification and he resumes drying himself to do something with his hands. Unfortunately, he can’t stop looking as she moves about their room. “Macy, you look…” He sighs happily; this gorgeous woman – who he _knows_ without a doubt is as beautiful in comfortable sweatpants and an oversized (preferably his) shirt – decided to get dolled up on his birthday.

Macy ducks her head and her tiny gold earrings gleam. “You like?” 

“ _Like_ is a word that utterly pales in comparison to what I’m feeling,” Harry says, truthfully. 

She graces him with a lovely smile. “You’re staring,” Macy mutters, and Harry doesn’t hide his regard as she saunters past him into the closet. “I went ahead and had that blazer you like dry cleaned, and I was thinking – nope!” She laughs and veers away from his outstretched hand.

Harry blinks. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Harry Greenwood, you’re not going to give me that puppy dog look. We’re on a schedule and I’m not going down that road,” Macy says as she skirts around him back into the bedroom. She shakes out the blazer and complementary shirt before putting them on the bed. She senses his eyes on her and she glances over her shoulder to find his gaze zeroed in on her ass. 

Macy turns back, pretending she hadn’t noticed his pointed interest. “Damn it,” she mutters, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she feels her body already responding. She clears her throat. “So, do you want help picking out slacks?” When Macy turns back Harry is right behind her.

She didn’t hear him move.

Her eyes widen. “Harry! Did you…” Macy swallows at the heat in his eyes, and she feels electricity buzzing along every inch of exposed skin. The normally demure whitelighter has left the building, and in his place is the man who enjoys arousing her into compliance. “Harry,” she says, her voice only _slightly_ tremulous, “we don’t have time.”

Harry’s smile spreads slowly as his gaze drops to the tops of her breasts, and Macy feels her nipples tighten and her clit pulse when he releases a low, pleased rumble. “Your dress is truly fetching,” he says as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. 

“I’m… glad you like it,” she says. “But you’re going to need to get dressed if we’re going to stick to the schedule.”

“You, wearing this dress… Is it my birthday present?” Harry asks, his voice still wallowing in his lower registers. Macy touches the side of her neck and his expression turns wolfish. 

She looks away, exhaling, and trying to gather her fortitude. “One of them, yes,” she admits. 

“Then I wish to unwrap my present now,” he says and closes the half step distance between them.

“Harry…” Macy says, trailing off as she gets a whiff of his natural scent. If she hadn’t been wet before she would be now. “Harry,” she says again, firmly. “I don’t have time for this. You need to get dressed and stop trying to rile me up. I can’t wear underwear with this dress and it’s dry clean only, catch my drift?”

Harry pulls his gaze from her cleavage, eyes more black than green; it’s safe to say he cottoned to her predicament. “Is that why you won’t let me touch you?” he asks, looking a bit mournful.

Macy throws him a flat look. “I’m not trying to soak through this dress, do you hear me?” she asks, snorting at how unbelievably petulant her adorable whitelighter can be. “Besides,” Macy says as she takes her finger and runs it across the top of her bodice, “anticipation makes everything better.”

Harry shivers and he cants his hips away from her to not inadvertently rub his cock against the folds of her dress. Besides, those aren’t the folds he genuinely wants, anyway. He glances at the clock; it’s ten past seven and he’s not wearing a stitch of clothing. If Harry is smart, he will take a step away and wrestle himself under control. Then he’ll get ready and escort his lovely significant other downstairs to where the rest of their friends and family wait to celebrate him and his life. 

But… now he knows Macy, his sweet, loving, exquisite Macy – standing before him with curves so scrumptious the term _ripe_ comes to mind – is not wearing any undergarments. She’s not wearing undergarments and has admitted amid her arousal she’s having difficulty controlling her body’s response to his proximity. Harry imagines the curls between her legs are dewy with her essence. 

He licks his lips and swears he can smell her. “Can I touch your dress?”

Macy is struggling to keep both herself and her breathing under control. If she doesn’t stop and remove herself from the situation she feels like she’s either going to fall out of the top of her dress due to her inability to breathe, or push Harry onto the bed, hike up her skirt, and sit on his dick until they’re both sane again.

She shifts and feels her thighs slide against each other like she’s a fucking slip and slide. _Damn you, Harry_.

“What?” Macy asks, warily. “Why?”

“It’s so fascinating; I just wish to know how it feels.” Harry smiles guilelessly and Macy is the opposite of fooled. 

“You’re not slick, Harry Greenwood. We end up in this position so much Mel and Maggie _joke_ about it,” she hisses. 

“But it’s my birthday,” he rumbles. “Can’t I be granted a little mercy? Just a touch?”

Macy’s resolve crumbles. “Then you’ll get dressed and let me go downstairs to make sure everything’s set up?”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, and Macy can’t help but roll her eyes at the incongruous image before her. The prim and proper Harry Greenwood invoking such an innocent oath while standing before her sporting a massive hardon. 

_Fuck it_ , she thinks. “Fine,” Macy says. Anything to get her out of this room or their evening will be in trouble. 

Harry grins.

~*~

Maggie wipes a bit of wayward lipstick from the edge of her lip and pouts at her mirror. “I don’t know what the big deal is,” she says. “Just pick one.”

“ _I can’t just pick one_ ,” Jordan says. “ _Harry seems like the type of dude to pay attention to wine pairings and I don’t want to piss off your sister because she might actually hit me again_.”

Maggie snorts a laugh and checks her outfit once more. “Jordan, picking wine is not that deep. Just get something that tastes good, you’ll be fine.” She picks up her phone to check the time. “It’s already twenty-two past and you’re still practically on the other side of town.”

“ _Traffic was horrible and the liquor store near my house apparently burned down last week. So red or white? What goes with French casserole, anyway_?”

Maggie hears the clink of bottles and rolls her eyes as she grabs her gift to Harry, feeling like a legitimate adult because she got it professionally wrapped and everything. “I don’t know,” she says as she steps into the hallway. Maggie pauses and glances around.

“ _Maggie_?!”

“Oh my god, shh,” she mutters, “I thought I…” She strains to listen but hears nothing. 

“ _What is it_?”

Maggie shakes her head though he can’t see her. “Nothing,” she mutters. “As for wine, get both. Can’t go wrong with that.”

“ _In this economy? I’m getting one good bottle of wine, not two cheap ones. Where are your standards_?” Jordan jokes. 

“Oh haha.” Maggie rolls her eyes but finds she doesn’t care to fight the smile tugging her lips. “And it’s _cassoulet_ ,” she corrects.

“ _Yeah, that’s what I said_.”

Maggie goes to retort when she hears it again. It’s faint, but it sounds like something heavy knocking against something else. She takes a step forward to try and figure out where it's coming from. “It’s a stew, not a casserole,” Maggie responds absently and feels a prickle of irritation when she realizes she can’t hear it anymore.

What _is_ that sound?

~*~

“ _Fuck_ ,” Macy pants, her head falling back as Harry holds her steady against the wall as he slides in and out of her body at a measured pace designed to steal her ability to care about anything other than what he’s doing between her thighs. 

“Macy, love, you must be quiet,” Harry pleads, rubbing his face against her cleavage like a man possessed. His hands support her weight beneath her thighs, giving him the ability to hold her legs open so he can fuck into her thoroughly. He slows down and flexes whilst seated deeply within her and swears he feels Macy drip onto his balls and thighs every time he shoves inside. 

“Me?” Macy yelps, breathless when he hits something magical inside. “Have you forgotten _you’re_ louder than I am? _Oh fuck_ , do that again,” she gasps, wailing quietly when Harry complies. He shushes her once more and they both lapse into giggles between trading deep, sweet kisses. Macy tightens herself around the steel inside of her, causing his hips to stutter as he groans loudly. 

“ _Bloody hell_ , Macy,” Harry proclaims. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Good; we should be downstairs, with our - _your_ guests,” she hisses, trying to appeal to his British hosting sensibilities while the lust ebbs just enough to think.

“Can you blame me?” Harry asks as he drops his face against her skin, desperate to feel more of her in any way he can. He began moving his hips again when Macy scratches her nails through his hair and keens quietly in his ear. He knows they must be quiet – his fault for not lighting a privacy candle before starting things – but something about Harry’s pride won’t let this stand. 

He lifts Macy higher and angles his hips minutely with every thrust until she screams, throwing her hand over her mouth as she ripples around him. She glares at him in warning, but she can’t hold it in the face of what’s happening between her legs. Harry grins at her and keeps moving, maneuvering his hand between them to gently rub at her clit. As much as his body is screaming for release, Harry dedicates himself to making Macy feel good. He does everything in his power to stave off his impending orgasm and groans, swearing loudly, when unexpectedly Macy comes hard enough to almost eject him forcibly from her body. 

It nearly brings Harry to his knees. 

“ _I don’t think anyone will care, Jordan. Just pick one_.”

Both Macy and Harry paused at the sound of Maggie’s voice just outside their door. If they resume, there’s no way she wouldn’t figure out what they’re doing.

“ _Just get a rosé. What? Who doesn’t like rosé? Of course, you freak…_ ”

Harry groans inaudibly and hopes desperately that Maggie won’t knock on their door. He doesn’t move, still buried balls deep in Macy, almost holding their breath. 

“Just say red, just say red, just say red,” he mutters in a near-silent plea. 

“ _Go with red_ ,” Maggie says and laughs. 

Macy breathes a sigh of relief as they listen to her sister’s footfalls move away from their door. “Let me down,” she hisses, unsteady once her feet are back on the ground. “What time is it?” She wobbles to the nightstand on her side of the bed and picks up her phone, groaning when she sees the time. “It’s seven forty-two,” she laments, firing off a text to someone.

“Well it’s not as if we’re the sole reason for being behind,” Harry offers. “Jordan isn’t here yet. Couldn’t possibly start without him.”

Macy just looks at him. “I still should be down getting things together. Warming food and arranging things so when Jordan _does_ get here, we can begin.”

Harry can’t bring himself to care, rooted to the spot at the sight before him. Macy’s dress is so closely tailored it hasn’t fallen down over her hips; he’s particularly grateful because he appreciates the unobstructed view of sticky thighs and saturated curls, the sight of which has him hard enough to feel his heartbeat in his cock. 

Macy senses his eyes and finds him staring, looking a little lost as if he’d left his brains inside her when he withdrew. She can’t help but glance down and her eyes widen; his manhood looks painfully turgid. Macy feels hot all over again and curses how easily her body reacts in proximity to his. 

“Come here, Harry,” she says tenderly, suppressing a smile at how he immediately strides forward, unselfconsciously graceful in his movement. He steps into the circle of her arms, shuddering when his cock rubs against her hip. Macy sighs at the contact and Harry chases the exhale with a deep kiss. How does each kiss feel like the first? She doesn’t know, but what she _does_ know is she could spend the rest of her life kissing this man, and fully intends to. Macy can’t help but smile against his lips, chuckling when Harry pulls her closer, feeling the responding sound of mirth deep in his chest against hers. 

She’s letting herself get distracted.

Macy breaks the kiss, softly rubbing her cheek against his as she moves Harry toward the chair in front of her vanity. If they are to make it out of this room and downstairs for his birthday dinner, she would have to move things along. She knows if she leaves it up to him, Harry would – quite literally and happily – spend hours between Macy’s thighs, trying to top how many orgasms she can handle before passing out.

There’s plenty of time for that later.

Harry flails slightly before realizing he’s being pushed onto a chair, holding on to Macy so they don’t overbalance and fall. He’s got the fabric of her dress bunching in his grasp and feels a twinge of embarrassment; he swore he wouldn’t ruin her it but they’re both slicked with sweat from making love. “Sorry, love,” he murmurs. Harry stares up at her, enjoying the view as he rubs his hands up and down her hips and thighs, content to merely enjoy her petal-soft skin.

“Just a quickie,” she teases, tilting his head back as she leans closer to press her forehead against his cheek. “I sometimes wonder if you know the meaning of the word.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Harry mutters with a groan when Macy rakes her fingers through his hair and against his scalp.

“True,” she admits reasonably. “But we weren’t late for dinner last night.” Macy suddenly kisses him deeply and grabs his dick, giving it a quick, firm squeeze before sliding her hand up to swirl her fingers around the leaking head. She pays attention to the prominent vein exposed by his retracted foreskin and thumbs away the pearl of liquid welling from his slit. “So, I will take matters into my own hands.”

Harry bucks into her hand, unable to do more than let his head fall back against the chair as he groans. “ _Fuck_ ,” he grunts softly, trying to shift his hips.

Macy tugs his hair hard. “Did I give you permission to move?” she pants, nearly breaking character when Harry’s eyes widen and clouds with lust. 

He swallows. “No,” he whispers. 

Macy grins and continues to move her hand up and down Harry’s shaft, marveling at how it seems to harden even more in her grasp. “Now,” she purrs, “are you going to be good, Harry? Can you be good for me?” She tightens her grip on his hair and pulls. “Answer me.”

Harry gulps audibly, a deep flush blooming across his neck and chest. His thighs flex under the strain required to override his body’s need to move, to fuck up into the wet tunnel of her hand as she touches his cock as expertly as he, himself does. “Yes,” he says, desperation coloring his voice neigh unrecognizable.

“Good.” Macy is done playing games; it’s time for the big guns. She throws her leg over his lap and taking a deep breath, positions Harry just so before dropping slowly onto his cock. Harry shouts and Macy slams a hand over his mouth, letting him scream into her palm until she’s fully seated on him.

She doesn’t let him recover before rising until just the tip is still inside her and then letting gravity slam her back down. Macy keeps her hand over Harry’s mouth as she speeds up, working her thighs and clenching around the hardness inside her. “God, you feel so hard and thick inside me,” she mutters, laughing shallowly when Harry’s hands on her hips spasm and clutch her tighter. 

“You like watching me bounce on your enormous dick, don’t you, Harry,” Macy asks, swearing when she feels him twitch inside her. She knows Harry has such a weakness for dirty talk to where she refrains because it severely impacts his stamina. Normally that’s a consideration, but right now?

She’ll take any advantage she can get.

“Do you feel how wet I am?” She leans closer to look down at the scant height difference she has over him in this position and shudders at how his eyes almost cross with pleasure as she works herself up and down. “Do you - _oh fuck_ ,” she grunts.

Harry slouches just enough to get his legs beneath him properly so he can grind up into her just as Macy comes down, moving even deeper inside of her. She shivers briefly and catches her breath before rising again. She tries to come back down slowly, but Harry snaps his hips up and Macy can’t help but whimper. “ _Fuck, fuck fuck_ ,” she hisses, feeling sweat gathering around her breasts and along her hairline. She feels like she’s overheating in her dress that isn’t meant for this type – or _any_ , really – of strenuous activity. 

“Goddamn it,” she swears, taking her hand off Harry’s mouth so she can pull the zipper down and peel it off the rest of the way. Immediately Harry’s eyes zero in on her breasts as they come into view, and Macy uses it to her advantage. She leans back and once she’s sure she has Harry captivated, Macy clenches as tightly as she can around him as she grabs her breasts and squeezes, plucking at her nipples until he knocks her hands away and hauls her closer to suck a sensitive bud into his mouth hotly. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Macy cries out as she begins moving faster. “ _Fuck_ ,” she pants at the hint of teeth on her nipple before the sensation is soothed away by a swirl of Harry’s tongue. He presses his face against her chest tightly, releasing the nipple in his mouth to rake his teeth against the skin between her breasts to groan lowly.

Macy lets him manhandle her, choking as he begins bouncing her hard, practically slamming her down onto his lap, feeling him go as deep as he can as he fucks into her. The sound of their bodies coming together is loud as Macy’s canal practically drools displaced liquid onto Harry’s cock and thighs. She presses her cheek against his, suddenly bashful at how wetly they slide against each other. 

Without warning, the world drops away and returns and at the familiar feel of their duvet against her sweaty back, Macy realizes Harry has orbed them from the chair to the bed without having to leave her body. She shivers at the look in his eye; the Harry before her - _inside_ her – stares at her like she’s a goddess, and that he can find salvation in her body.

He looks down to where they are joined and begins moving his hips, going slack-jawed at the sight, sound, and sensation of watching himself glide practically frictionless in and out of her body, utterly captivated at how his length shines with her juices. Harry holds her legs open wider and drags his eyes up her body, eagerly taking in the play of her abdominal muscles as she works to meet him thrust for thrust.

Harry reaches for Macy’s breasts, palming them in his hands and swiping his thumbs across her nipples just as he snaps his hips forward and grinds into her, crying out at how her essence drips out of her and onto his thighs to begin to drench the comforter below. “You feel so good around me, darling, _shit_ , you’re so wet we’re going to ruin the bed,” he says amazedly. The bed shakes with more than just the force of his thrusts, and Harry exults, feeling a frisson of pride. 

He knows – from _glorious_ experience - when Macy begins losing control of her telekinesis it’s the first sign of a truly deep, toe-curling orgasm. And Harry is going to give it to her. _That_ will be his greatest birthday present; watching his beloved cry his name as she comes, screaming, on his dick. Macy pulls him down for a scorching kiss and Harry loses himself in it and in her. He yelps and laughs when she wraps herself around him tightly and they tumble until she’s on top.

She takes Harry’s hands in hers, her face overcome with lust and love as she begins to bounce, rolling her hips every time she slams back down on him. “Goddamn it, Harry,” Macy pants. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so good inside me.” She begins to move faster and his toes curl in response to the pleasure building heavily in his spine and groin. 

Harry grits his teeth and begins snapping his hips up when Macy comes down. The sounds their bodies make as he pushes inside her body make his eyes roll up in his head and he moans. His skin feels tight and feverish as Harry chases completion. “Macy, _love_ , just like that. Just like that, _fuck_ ,” he swears, and groans low. 

Macy’s movements lose finesse as her impending orgasm rockets toward her. She whimpers at the absurdity of her situation - this was supposed to be about Harry; she’d already come once! But her body wants what it wants and he’s giving it to her with gloriously hard, sharp thrusts that have him filling her tightly. 

The erotic melody of Harry’s moans makes blood rush between her thighs and her arousal practically pours itself over his cock when Macy rises as he pulls back. His hands in hers feel like the only things tethering her to this earth and Macy’s head drops back as she swivels her hips, gasping as her clit grinds against his pubic bone at the base of his dick.

She pulls Harry’s hands to her breasts and he immediately squeezes the soft flesh before moving his thumb across her nipples, a move that never fails to drive her wild. Her hips rock harder in desperation, her thighs sliding against Harry’s hips as she moves. Macy knows she’s making a mess but there’s nothing she can do about it; her body is literally and figuratively in his hands. “ _Fuck_ ,” she swears and stills. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asks, full of concern, wincing when Macy lifts herself up and off, clutching her leg with a yelp. 

“My thigh,” she bites out. “Cramp.” Macy falls forward onto the bed and tries to stretch out her leg. “ _Motherfucker_ , that hurts,” she whimpers.

Harry grimaces in sympathy and places his hand flat on the back of her thigh and watches the light pour from his hand and cast a shadow on her sweat-slicked body. “I’m sorry,” he says, gently caressing her skin. 

Macy releases the breath she was holding and twists so she can see him, her eyes landing on the tumescence between his legs, dark red, and gleaming with _her_. She shivers and falls back onto her front. “No, you’re not,” she says mournfully. 

“I am,” Harry insists.

“You’re not because this was supposed to be a quickie,” Macy groans. “A quickie is supposed to be _quick_ , Harry. You’re being the opposite of quick.”

Harry feels like a cad. “I honestly intended to be quick,” he says. 

Macy sighs. “Yeah, I know,” she mutters. 

“Is my lovely flower sore?” Harry’s hands wander up to the globes of her ass and he squeezes indulgently. 

Macy huffs a laugh. “That is _not_ a flower,” she pants, squirming in his grasp. 

Harry’s chuckle is more a rumble that rattles in his chest, and he moves on his knees between her legs. He spreads Macy’s thighs and takes a deep breath; he can _smell_ her and his mouth waters in an enthusiastic response. As much as he’s desperate to come, _dying_ to push inside her body to find his release, Harry never wants to hurt Macy. 

Apologetically he puts his hand over her mound, stroking it gently. Harry slides his knuckles against her dewy curls and drags the gathered moisture before turning his hand flat against her sex and again releasing his healing magic. 

Macy releases a soft, questioning noise and Harry is spellbound, watching her backside flex when she lifts her hips to push back against his hand, his fingers gathering and coating his palm with the evidence of her desire. Harry closes his eyes and squeezes his cock with his free hand, suddenly breathless at the sheer extent of his longing for every facet of the woman bared before him. 

_His_ woman, he thinks. Just as he’s her man. 

Half mad with lust, Harry shuffles closer and grinds the hard column of flesh between his legs on the tantalizing curve of Macy’s rear. Her fragrance fills his nostrils on every inhale, her arousal saturating the length of his shaft where he nudges against the swollen folds at her opening. 

Macy gasps and moans low when she feels her body part around the tip of him as it moves just inside. Harry pushes forward just a bit more, his dick loudly displacing the excessive amount of lubrication she can’t help but produce. Her toes curl and she sobs out when Harry continues to tease at her entrance, swearing when he bounces his bulbous glans along her clit and back inside.

The pleasure pooling in his gut tightens his scrotum to the knife-edge of pain as Harry relishes how her labia part and close around his member, her body attempting to swallow his cock greedily. “Tell me you want more, love,” he groans helplessly, making shallow, rocking motions designed to make Macy scream. 

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she swears, clutching the duvet and grimacing as her arm lands on a particularly egregious wet spot. This is getting ridiculous, her brain realizes. If she continues listens to her disloyal fucking vagina, Macy knows what her immediate future holds – Harry, singularly dedicated to the pursuit of their shared pleasure; when he gets like that Macy knows he’s more than capable of spending hours working them both into a lust-addled frenzy. 

Friends and family? Forgotten. The birthday party - _his birthday party_ \- wholly disregarded without an ounce of remorse. Worse?

Macy will let him do it because _her_ flesh is weak, weak for him. 

“Harry, I _swear to god_ I will kill you,” she mutters, her head dropping forward as she takes a deep breath. Macy widens her legs and positions herself just so. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she reminds herself, and because she’s gracious Macy gives Harry five seconds to stop playing around and go ahead and just stick it in. 

He doesn’t do that, though. 

Fine.

Macy rears back, hurling her ass against him without a single warning. Her vision whites out and her toes curl hard enough to cause concern, but Macy does not stop until she feels Harry’s hips flush against the curve of her ass. 

Macy can do nothing but tighten her muscles around the turgid length inside of her; Harry’s face lands on her back between her shoulder blades as he braces himself on tremulous arms either side of her body, narrowly avoiding fully collapsing onto her. 

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” he gasps. “Macy, love - _fuck_ \- you’re squeezing me so hard.”

Macy breathes through her nose and tries to assign her body as nonessential, so she can stay the course. “Because I need you to come,” she pants, “and if I leave it to you we _might_ leave this room in time for your _next_ birthday.” She rises and Harry is forced to move with her. He slips out of her and she falls onto her back with her legs splayed. Harry can’t look away, staring with awe-tinged adoration even as she shakes her head with fond exasperation. 

“Baby, come here,” Macy says, her voice heavy with fond exasperation. He complies, slipping between her open legs with familiar ease. She cups his face and takes in the almost beet red flush blooming across his chest and neck, the sweat dotting his brow. She narrows her eyes and has an inkling she may have had the wrong idea. 

“Oh, Harry,” Macy murmurs, pulling him as close as she can so he can cool his feverish face against her chest and neck. Fuck, she was _completely_ off base. Harry clutches her tightly and she curses inwardly when she feels rather than hears his sob of frustration. “It’s okay, baby,” she croons as she rubs her hand up and down the bony protrusions of Harry’s spine. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against Macy’s neck. “I tried to just – I mean, I wanted –”

“Harry, I thought we agreed if you started feeling like that again, if you couldn’t beat it back by yourself immediately, you would tell me so I could help you.” Macy tugs on the hair at the nape of his neck so he would lift his face to look him in the eye.

No, this isn't Harry, the eager lothario on her hands, she has the Harry too deep inside his own head to allow himself an orgasm. It had been a while since this issue had reared its ugly head; a problem Macy had helped Harry peel back layer by layer until she had thought they had put it to bed. 

“I thought I could power through it,” he says. “I _wanted_ to power through it.”

Macy can hear the frustration in his voice and sees the uncomfortable tension in the line of his shoulders. She rubs at it; down his arms and back up to cup his face. “You said that never works for you,” she says quietly.

Harry huffs a mirthless laugh. “I thought today, of all days, was a chance it could change.”

She nods. “And how is that working for you?”

Harry drops his face with a sigh, planting a quick kiss to Macy’s collarbone as he gently eases himself from within her. He flops onto the bed beside her, sweaty and frustrated, his entire body varying shades of red. “Not at all,” he admits. 

Macy turns on her side, her smile wan as she reaches out to put her hand over his heart. Harry grabs it and brings it to his lips so he can kiss her palm before moving it to his cheek, one of his favorite places to be touched by her.

“I can tell them to start without us,” she says. “We don’t _have_ to go down if you don’t want to,” she says.

“But I do, that’s what’s so frustrating,” Harry says. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, everything your sisters have done to throw this party together. I don’t want that to go down the drain.”

Macy shakes her head. “Harry, I don’t care about a party. I care about _you_ ,” she says as she moves closer. Harry lifts his arm to allow her to slot comfortably against him, her head resting against the side of his chest. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?” 

He opens his mouth and closes it, glancing down at Macy with a small glower. “What if I didn’t want to talk about it at all?” he asks crossly.

Macy considers. “That’s up to you,” she agrees. “But I just don’t like seeing you like this. You climb so far into your own head sometimes I think you have difficulty finding your way back. I’d like to think that’s what I’m here for, and what we’re able to do for each other.”

Harry knows the wisdom of Macy’s words, but the irritation at this emotional setback fills his stomach with a pit of dread. He finds solace and strength in her steadfast gaze and wills himself to speak. “I love you so much,” he says. “Sometimes it takes my breath away. I consider myself a lucky man every day you allow me to fall asleep and wake beside you. 

“But there are times I still struggle with whether I deserve to be happy with you. Deep down I fear not only am I not worth your love, time, and attention but that my past misdeeds prove so.”

Macy stares at the smattering of chest hair she’s rubbing her fingers against and looks contemplative. “What are you most worried about?” she asks.

“Truthfully, everything,” Harry admits. Macy merely continues to look at him expectantly and he sighs. “My weakness has put you and our family in danger. My inability to reconcile what I’ve experienced against what I continue to learn about my existence. How I am constantly realizing my role as an advisor is essentially laughable at this point, and one day your sisters, or worse, _you_ will come to realize such and I will no longer be of use.”

Macy looks stricken. “Oh, Harry,” she murmurs and presses a kiss against his chest over his heart. “I’m not with you because you’re useful.”

“See, it’s already begun.” Harry feels the joke fall flat and reaches for her hand, lifting it to kiss her palm in silent apology. Macy’s expression softens. “Doubts creep forward, love,” he says after he moves her hand aside. “The voices merely whisper on the best of days, but on the worst, it’s a never-ending tirade in my head. Try as I might, they are impossible to ignore and they demand I defend myself. Yet any argument offered is judged deficient and ineffective, and who am I to disagree? Those infernal voices, they can be damned... persuasive.”

“I know,’ Macy whispers. “So, maybe I can give you a better argument?” Harry looks at her curiously. “You might not believe in yourself, but you trust me, right?”

“Unequivocally,” he says immediately. “Without question.”

“And you trust me when I tell you how I feel, right?”

Harry’s frown turns wary at the edges. “I do,” he says slowly.

“So, you can trust when I say, after we’ve argued, discussed, and made promises, that I don’t doubt you. I don’t worry when you stand next to me in battle. I know you have my back in any fight, both magical and mundane. I feel safe with you. I feel my heart is safe in your hands,” she says as she cups his face fondly. “And don’t doubt that you have my heart.”

“And you have mine,” Harry vows breathlessly.

Macy grins. “Good, because you’re not getting it back, Harry Greenwood.”.

Harry pulls her down and rolls, tucking her beneath him before pouring everything he can’t say but feels into a kiss. Macy curls around him, her legs rising to bracket his hips. When they part, they’re both more than a little breathless and her eyes are warm as they just stare at each other. “You’re it for me,” she breathes. 

Harry touches her gently; love and adoration coalesce into a heady mix that stokes the fire of desire within them. He feels Macy’s nipples harden against his chest and he rocks against her, notched between her thighs. Harry drags himself against her, marveling how swollen she feels as he slides through the copious moisture gathering. His cock parts her just enough to allow him to rub against her clit. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Macy pants, keening as he continues to grind against her. “Don’t you feel what you do to me?” She lifts her hips and he sinks into her unexpectedly. 

“God, yes,” Harry shouts with a groan. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt and they’re both struggling to breathe. 

Macy rakes her fingers against Harry’s scalp and his hips snap forward. “ _Oh god, oh fuck_ ,” she shouts. Harry drops his face against her neck and shudders before he lifts his face and rises to his knees. He reaches for a pillow and shoves it beneath Macy’s hips, changing the depth and angle of his penetration. 

Well fuck, how did she end up in trouble again?

Harry gazes down at her before him, her body, mind, and soul fully bared to him, and his to her. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he rasps. Her internal muscles squeeze even more him and he withdraws until only the bell end remains inside. He pushes forward slowly, thrusting deeply as he changes his entry with the most minute of adjustments. Suddenly Macy gasps; he feels a rush of liquid on his thighs as her eyes widen. 

Oh, yes; _there_ it is.

A man obsessed, Harry does absolutely everything to hit and rub against that spot that has Macy crying and cursing his name. He makes her body sing with pleasure and it is massively satisfying to watch her come apart on his cock. 

The room fills with the sounds of their lovemaking; as much as they love to tease one another both Harry and Macy are quite vocal when expressing their pleasure, and their voices are in erotic concert as they chase completion. Beneath there’s the unmistakable sound of two bodies coming together. 

Harry, jaw slightly agape, watches Macy palm her breasts and teases her nipples. He can feel her throb deep inside and she’s so tight his toes are curling. The sight further inflames him, and his hips move faster when that telltale surge begins in his balls. “God, you feel so good,” he grunts, moving inside her long and deep. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Macy shouts. This is going to be a big one, she can tell. Curse her stupidly beautiful man. It’s not just her heart that’s his, and he proves it time and again just like this, loving her so good it makes her truly understand what the fuss is all about. “I need you to come, Harry,” she moans. “Please, god, you’re so deep – I’m – I’m - _oh fuck, fuck, fuck_! _ohgodHarryHarryHarryHarry_!”

“Take it, take it, love,” Harry moans, dropping down against her as he erupted, pressing himself tight against her as his cock pulses with his release. His hips are still moving, prolonging the pleasure between them. Eventually, Harry slows, then stills, leaving them both sweaty again as they try to regain equilibrium.

Harry laughs, his voice rough from wear, and lovingly he drops a delighted kiss on Macy’s glorious mouth. “I will spend the rest of my life loving you,” he whispers.

Macy rolls her eyes. “You’re immortal,” she reminds him gently.

“Nonetheless,” he murmurs. 

Macy’s eyes widen and she can only swallow and nod. Part of her wants to shy away from the look in his eyes. It’s almost too much to think about, so she won’t. Instead, she kisses him again before she pushes at his chest. 

“Oh god,” she mutters. “Mel’s going to _kill_ us.”

Harry reluctantly slips from her body and flops onto his back beside her. “Surely she wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m the birthday boy.”

“Right, and we’re running _way_ behind and Mel skipped lunch,” Macy tells him, glaring at him knowingly. 

Harry pales and sits up. “Oh god, Mel’s going to kill us.”

~*~

“I’m sorry.”

Ruby sighs. “Mel, chill. If you apologize one more time, I will scream,” she jokes. “Besides, if Harry wants to be late that’s his choice; he _is_ the birthday boy.”

“It’s just rude, and more than that, it’s _embarrassing_ ,” Mel hisses, taking a moment to make sure she had enough plates. “We all know what they’re doing,” she mutters.

Maggie grins. “Quit playing, Mel; birthday sex ranks up there with makeup sex and _oh my god, we survived_ sex, and you know it.”

Ruby cackles knowingly as she steals a cherry tomato from the pile Maggie’s slicing in half. “And let’s not pretend we left my bed for anything more than hydration and needing to pee.”

Mel whirls on her girlfriend, utterly scandalized. “Ruby!”

“What? It’s the truth,” she says with a shrug.

Maggie laughs. “And I thank you for it.” She wipes her hands on the cloth next to the cutting board and checks her phone. It’s now ten past eight and her stomach is beginning to complain. 

“That’s different,” Mel sputters. 

“Oh? Do tell.” Maggie says while she quickly texts Jordan. Did he have an issue with picking up the cake? Did something else happen? If not, what’s taking him so long?

Mel glares at her sister with no real heat. “For one, we did a lot better than bland, vanilla sex,” she retorts.

Maggie snorts as she returns her phone to the counter and continues to prep the cherry tomatoes for the salad. “From what I heard it’s anything _but_ vanilla.”

Mel grimaces. “I don’t want to think about our sister and whitelighter having sex, okay?” Immediately after the words leave her mouth, Mel’s stomach gurgles loudly. 

Maggie and Ruby look at each other in wide-eyed surprise and burst into incredulous laughter.

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Mel mumbles, taking her stack of plates and immediately goes to set the table in the backyard. 

“Come on, Mel,” Maggie calls after her, giggling. “Grab a snack, _something_ while we’re waiting because you’re one snippy bitch when you’re hangry!” She finishes the last of the tomatoes and slides them all into the salad bowl, which Ruby took, along with a stack of entrée bowls, before taking off after Mel. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jordan calls out, kicking the front door closed with his foot as he concentrates on not dropping the cake, the wine, and a birthday present in his arms. 

Maggie rushes from the kitchen to take the cake off his hands, looking over the buttercream for any trauma-induced imperfections. “Where have you been,” she hisses, satisfied the dessert is still pristine.

“Three-car accident an exit from downtown,” Jordan says, exhaustion clear around the edges of his sheepish expression. 

Maggie sighs as her irritation evaporates. “Let me guess, you stopped to see what you could do to help,” she says.

He shrugs a shoulder. “I had to; I was the only one on the scene who had any training. Ended up giving chest compressions until emergency services arrived to do their thing.”

“Right, that _was_ more important,” she admits. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Phone died,” he says. “Today’s been a long day. Can I borrow your charger?”

“I don’t know, you got any money?” Maggie asks, cackling when Jordan’s jaw drops. “Obvi, dude. It’s already in the kitchen, on the counter next to the coffeemaker. You can snag it and plug it in wherever – there are three outlets in the solarium and two on the back porch, one right next to the door. Knock yourself out.”

“Cool. You guys sing happy birthday yet?” Jordan asks as they move toward the kitchen.

“Kinda need the birthday boy for that,” Mel mutters as she skates past them with barely a nod as she glares up the steps. 

“Harry’s not here?” he asks, more than a little surprised. 

Maggie sighs. “No, he’s _here_ , alright, just not at his party yet. We think he’s gotten… distracted.”

Jordan’s eyes narrow as she tilts her head expectantly and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh,” he says, as he gets it. “ _Oh_. Well, I mean, yeah. Birthday nookie, am I right?”

Maggie nods. “He gets it,” she says as she turns to her sister. 

Mel hangs off the banister with a sour expression. “We should’ve started eating ninety minutes ago.”

Jordan glances at Maggie. “Mel, are you okay? You seem a little-”

“If you say _hangry_ I will turn you into a fly, and you know by now that’s not an idle threat,” Mel warns.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Never crossed my mind,” he swears. 

“See, Jordan knows what’s smart, unlike some others who are playing with my emotions,” Mel shouts up the stairs, Jordan and Maggie eagerly crowding round at the bottom stair all in efforts to glimpse a birthday walk of shame, all three being unobtrusively nosy as one _can_ be.

“You say emotions, I say appetite,” Maggie mutters.

“We _will_ start without you,” Mel shouts again up the stairs.

“Who are we yelling at?” 

Everyone turns to find Macy behind them, craning to look, too.

Mel looks up to the second-floor landing and back at her. “You guys,” she says. “You and Harry. We’re ready to eat!”

Macy smiles. “Good. We’re all set up in the backyard when you’re ready, Mel.”

Maggie frowns. “That’s not the dress we picked out,” she says, gesturing to Macy’s crimson jumpsuit.

“Plans changed,” Macy says simply, almost but not quite meeting Maggie’s gaze.

Mel narrows her eyes. “We were waiting on _you_ ,” she says. 

Macy blinks innocently. “But we were waiting for Jordan,” she says.

Mel opens her mouth and closes it, her expression going murderous when Maggie snorts and quickly clears her throat. 

“Mel…” Maggie calls after her laughingly as their sister stalks off toward the backyard. “Don’t be like that…”

Harry steps into the hall and just narrowly avoids getting shoulder-checked by Mel with a thunderous expression. “What’s going on?” he asks, pausing to welcome Jordan with a clasp to the shoulder and a one-armed hug. 

“Steer clear of Mel; her stomach’s gunning for you,” Jordan says before he allows Maggie to tug him into the kitchen to plug in his phone. “What?” he asks. “The man deserved to know…”

Quizzically, Harry looks to Macy and is curious at the uncharacteristically impish shade to her grin. “Did I miss something?”

Macy shakes her head, her smile full and bright. “Not at all, but if you wake up one night to find me murdered in my sleep it was probably Mel,” she jokes.

“I’m sorry?” Harry asks.

Macy steps closer and rubs her cheek against his, feeling his arms circle her waist and pull her closer. She kisses Harry’s cheek and holds him for a moment, just because she can. “Come on, birthday boy,” she says. “Time to let your family celebrate you.”

~*~

This year, like every year, Harry feels his birthday celebration is bigger, better, and somehow fit to overflow with the love of his family. The backyard is artfully decorated with mason jars spinning slowly as they float in mid-air, their soft light envelops everything in a dream-like feel. 

Macy truly went all out with the dinner menu, and the cassoulet was just as good now as it was previously. Thankfully, Harry couldn’t tell he’d consumed any and apparently neither could Macy, and the meal continued without a hitch, everyone praising Jordan for his choice of wine. He and Macy couldn’t help the secret smirk shared behind their glasses. 

Dessert is his birthday cake and Harry, who before swore he only wanted a sliver at the moment – dinner was rich and decadent enough to sit heavily, yet comfortingly, in his stomach – has a forkful of the lemon cake and elderflower buttercream and eats two pieces before bemoaning his lack of control. 

Wine pours like water and people are dancing - _Harry_ is dancing – between opening his gifts. Even Celeste sent a few gaily wrapped parcels from Mykonos. Everywhere Harry looks is proof he’s loved and considered; not just for what he can do but for who he _is_. 

The party draws to a close and yet again Harry finds himself less dancing and more swaying with the love of his life in his arms, content to move as little as possible while remaining as close as two separate people can.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Macy murmurs, and he can feel the curve of her smile against his neck as he tightens his arms around her. 

~*~

“Seriously?” Mel says as she stacks the last of the dishes next to the sink. “I thought we decided you would go read the paper and drink some scotch like the caricature of old, white, cis, heterosexuality you are.”

Harry pointedly scrapes excess food from the plate into the bin and moves on to the next dish. “You ladies have done plenty and besides, it’s after midnight. My birthday has well and truly passed.”

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s Maggie, Mel,” Macy jokes as she returns with the used stemware. 

Maggie huffs and rolls her eyes. “Look, a birthday week is a legitimately recognized thing.”

“She’s been trying to push this since she was six,” Mel mutters to Macy. “And what did Mom say? We’re not doing birthday weeks.”

“Some family,” Maggie sniffles. Her phone brightens beside her, drawing her attention. “Jordan dropped Ruby off safe, says good night.” Everyone makes appropriate noises of acknowledgment and returns to the introspective silence brought about by clearing away all signs a party had happened.

Harry lifts the lid of the container that held the cassoulet and with a pang of melancholy grabs a spoon to gather up some dregs from the bottom, and eats it, mentally bidding his birthday goodbye for another year.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Macy murmurs, coming up behind him.

Harry turns, his smile wan as he pulls the spoon from between his lips. “Absolutely nothing,” he reassures her. Macy doesn’t look convinced. “I’m just sad it’s gone,” he admits.

Macy brightens. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I made way more than we needed – I botched the recipe and almost tripled it instead of doubled it,” she says, darting to the refrigerator. “Afterward I considered it a happy accident,” she jokes.

Maggie’s eyes widen, and she grabs her phone. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow, okay, bye!”

Harry and Mel watch her flee the kitchen as if someone set her on fire and glance at each other in confusion. 

“What in the hell? Who did this?”

In unison, they turn to Macy holding a half-empty container. 

As if trapped in a real-life horror movie, realization dawns on Harry and he can feel the color drain from his face as he calculates how much trouble he’d be in if he were to orb away. 

Mel suddenly looks over her shoulder. “What?” she calls. 

Harry glares at her. “No one said anything,” he hisses. 

Mel glances back to Macy and grabs her wine as she power walks out of the kitchen. “No, I hear Maggie calling, gotta go!”

Harry opens his mouth to call her back but knows Mel is merely being pragmatic. If _he_ had been smart, he wouldn’t be in this mess, he reminds himself. Guiltily, Harry turns back to the love of his life.

“Now remember,” he says as he raises his hands in surrender, “it _is_ my birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [TheShipSailsItself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipSailsItself/pseuds/TheShipSailsItself) for their valuable editing skills.


End file.
